


Leap of Faith

by FireEye



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 03:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5692789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireEye/pseuds/FireEye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An Old Stilwater ghost story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leap of Faith

Old Stilwater stretched for miles, labyrinthine beneath the city above. There might never have been another world, only the long dead streets, frozen in cataclysmic rubble, rich with the smell of deep earth and musty timber.

There were nights she could walk for hours and not find another soul. Tonight, she sat under the old statue of a lion, resting her head against the dried lichen fur of its flank. The frosted bottle scraped against the plinth as she twirled it between her fingers... the sound itching in the dark.

The bottle stopped. The itch crept up the back of her neck. Slowly, Faith opened her eyes.

Raising her head, she regarded the unfamiliar woman who stood between the shadows, braving her audience. Her hair was bleached pale, darker where it had grown out at the roots. There were holes in her flannel overshirt, but it wasn’t in tatters. Not yet, anyway. Old pair of nylon boots. Her eyes were bright, clear... even calculating as her lips pressed together into a thin line.

Faith knew that look – she’d seen it in kids that threw themselves into the fray in search of a better life. In the women who couldn’t imagine there would ever _be_ a better life. She’d seen it among the panhandlers on the street. Hell, she’d seen it in the mirror.

Having emptied out her pockets on her way through the camp, she patted her jacket for anything that might’ve been left. Without bothering to account for it, Faith slapped the remaining jumble of bills into the hand which raised deftly to receive them.

“I got a friend thinks I should be charging you assholes rent.”

The money crumpled, clenched tightly between slender fingers, as the woman dipped to retrieve a quarter that had fallen, but her mouth pulled upward at the edges, ever faintly, in a smile. Pale white teeth in the dim light.

“Good thing for me you aren’t your friend.”

Faith briefly ignored her for a swig off the bottle, and, after a thought, offered it with an equally thin smirk. The woman pulled a face at the mouthful of liquor, but took another, much smaller sip and handed the bottle back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Between Faith’s fingertips, the glass was chill like autumn.

“Wanna know a secret?”

Faith shook her head, leaning so to press her forehead against her palm. Her fingers tangled in her hair, pushing it out of her eyes.

“It might be worth something to you.”

A silent chuckle trembled in her shoulders, cut short as the eyebrow that could raise inexplicable did.

“C’mon. Let me show you.”

The woman reached out. Yet, turning as she did, their fingers didn’t quite _touch_ , and she all but disappeared, rejoining the shadows in the murky gloom. One long, hesitant moment’s consideration, and Faith opted not to bother following.

Another, and she slid off the plinth, her shoes hitting the broken pavement.

The path twisted through the neighborhood of broken roads, until mere darkness pooled into the Abyss. The chasm yawned before her, a distant trickle of water glittering in the deep. A breath of movement along it’s shore, near enough but impossibly distant, and Faith followed along the ridge.

The bottle slipped out of her hand, falling to shatter amidst the stones. Shards of glass scattered the thin wisps of light as they skittered in all directions, and the frail outline of the cracked bottle seemed to hover before it vanished over the edge of the chasm. A soft, echoing clink overlapped another, and another, as it fell, out of sight.

Transfixed, Faith’s attention was rapt upon the dark liquor staining the pale rocks. A small gasp escaped her as she pulled herself free, searching the darkness along the shore for...

_something_.

...the way the shadows moved, dusk and dusk.

Stumbling along in the dark, Faith froze as one hand, outstretched for balance, touched a thin pillar of stone, jutting out of the ground into the nothing. A breath of fresh air tousled her hair, but there was no wind. Not here, not this deep.

The emptiness was dizzying.

Stepping back from the ledge, Faith paced the distance for a running jump. She was breathing hard before she took the first step, but she felt light as a feather. The world turned over, and she hit the ground hard enough to force the air from her lungs.

Her chest burned, spurring on a wheezing cough, and she struggled to push herself upright. Rubbing the tears of pain from her eyes, she blinked in confusion. She hadn’t made it across... she hadn’t even made it to the edge.

A shadow stood between her and the Abyss.

“The fuck has gotten into you?”

Warm and alive and not a shadow at all.

“I can make it.” There was a dry, dull certainty in her voice, and she stared past him to the stone marker. “...I know I can make it.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Gat bent down to haul her back to her feet. “Make _what_?”

“To the other side.”

Gat twisted to glance down behind him, then back at Faith. The incredulous huff that escaped his lungs was almost a chuckle. “Oh. Yeah. That part’s fuckin’ _obvious_.”

Faith stared up at him. Her fingers brushed his where they still clamped around her arm, and his grip loosened a touch.

“You’re the one was always telling me to stop letting fear get in my way.”

“I never told you to jump off a damn cliff.” Grabbing hold of her jacket, Gat swung her closer to the edge. Feet skidding against the uneven ground, Faith flung her arms out into the open air as he tilted her over the chasm. “How fucking _drunk_ you gotta be for that to sound like a good idea?”

Without the leverage to pull herself back, Faith groped for his arm. Johnny pulled her back on fully solid ground, and added an extra jab to force her another step back in the right direction.

“Not _down_ ,” Faith clarified. As though it was the most intuitive thing in the world. “ _Across_.”

Johnny gave the Abyss another glance, and shook his head.

“There’s _nothing_ over-....” He dug his fingers into the jacket collar, knuckles pressing against her neck and holding her still as he nudged her chin upward with his thumb, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Look, 'Stas, do me a favor, _lay off the green shit_.”

**Author's Note:**

> -This has been rattling around my brain for a year and a half or more, ever since I found out there were those ghosts, intentional or glitch, in Old Stilwater.  
> -I am very fond of Old Stilwater.


End file.
